In Dedication to Mrs Hotchner
by HofYecats
Summary: "Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die" - Amelia Burr. Written for the 100th episode.


He realizes something about tears; they don't just go away.

They build up over the years until something, finally something causes them to overflow and then they just never stop flowing, ever. He thinks its fine with him if he just stays here for the rest of his life, crying. Because for once, he doesn't want to have to be in control of this situation, for once he wants to let others take care of him, see to the details. For once, he just wants to react like he's always stopped himself from reacting.

For once, he just wants to cry.

Some small, logical part of his brain tells him that crying isn't going to bring her back. But he screams at that little voice, telling it to shut up. Because that part of him that's finally being released, the part that wanted to tap dance in the hallways when Jack was born, that wanted to sing when Haley said "I do", that wanted to kiss total strangers when he solved his first case, is running with the legs of a soldier, finally set free after years and years of being up locked in a prison cell.

And it's not going to stop running now.

He cries and cries and howls when his teammates come in the door and try to pry him from her body. He cries for so long there stops being a sound to it, they're just wet tears running down his face and landing on hers. He cries until after what seems like hours, or days, or maybe even years, he releases his grip on her slightly, to gaze down at her lifeless body.

She _did_ look really good with dark hair.

He never told her that.

The thought almost brings on a fresh new wave of tears, but he holds it back again since the logical part of his brain, the part that is now getting back up after being knocked over momentarily, is—and always has been—the stronger of the two.

He touches her face gently with his fingers, wiping away the tears that have landed on her face and tracing her eyes, her nose, her mouth and finally coming to rest under her chin. This is where she likes to be kissed, he remembers.

Where she _liked_ to be kissed, he corrects himself.

She isn't in this body anymore.

After the pain passes and the tears stop flowing, the guilt smacks him in the face so hard he almost physically falls over. In not so many ways, he's killed her. He's killed her first, by falling in love with her and her reciprocating the feeling. He's killed her by marrying her and giving her a taste of happiness, of what a life with him might've been like. He's killed her by giving her a son, and then abandoning her and him both, for his job. He's killed her by having her think that she might've been able to have him, if she changed enough or became accepting enough. He's killed her by putting her in this position and he couldn't, for the life of him, pull her out of it.

Another logical part of him whispers that this is no one's fault but the guy who did this to her. But every other part of him screams that he is the guilty party. After all, can a mosquito be blamed for spreading malaria when all its doing is living up to expectation? Foyet was a narcissist, and killing was his way of getting attention.

He has the sudden urge to put a bullet through his own heart, to let the blood flow freely from his chest taking him to a quieter place. He thinks Haley might be there waiting for him. She might find it in her heart to forgive him for doing this to her. She might still be willing to love him.

But then reality comes back to him in the form of a small voice echoing through the hollows of his mind.

_I worked the case with you, Daddy. Just like you said…_

Hopes of escaping the terrible guilt of joining Haley, of being forgiven fade away quickly, replaced by a stronger sense responsibility towards his son.

He had lost her (completely now) and had failed her.

But he wasn't going to lose his son too.

He had killed his wife, but he could save their son from a life of foster homes and adoptive parents. If he had nothing to live for anymore, then he could still live for his son.

He had to.

"I'm sorry, Haley", he whispered one last time, "I'll try harder now. For Jack"

Then, placing her gently on the floor again, he got up and left the room.

* * *

A/N: Tell me how I did guys. Angst is **not** my specialty and I'm sorry for all of you who hated this. I might regret publishing this too when tomorrow morning comes, trust me.

In dedication to the character, Haley Hotchner... some of us wanted you out of the way. We never really meant it. Rest in peace, Mrs. Hotch, we'll miss you.


End file.
